Aftermath: First Impressions
by prettysophist
Summary: Trowa Barton wakes up in a hospital room, with no memory of who he is...or who he was. Day by day, he finds himself learning new things about his past that make him question what he wants from his future. Ultimately 1x3x4, 2x6, 5x13.
1. Forget Me Not

**A/N:** Written for tamingthemuse on LiveJournal. Prompt #488: Elixir.

* * *

I woke up in what was unmistakably a hospital room, white and sterile. That was my first clue that something was seriously wrong. I couldn't remember why I was there, but then again I'd heard somewhere that a lot of people can't, if they've been in an accident or whatever. Their mind blocks it out.

I wasn't in pain at all; couldn't feel much of anything. Just comfortably numb and woozy, and very, very thirsty.

I tried to sit up in the bed, which was apparently a mistake, since it made my head whirl and pound horribly.

"Careful there," a voice murmured, and a strong supporting arm slipped around my back. "Water?"

"Yes, please," I croaked.

The supporting arm adjusted itself, and a glass was pressed to my lips. I felt a weak surge of indignation— _I'm not a child!_ —but just swallowing took almost more energy than I had, so I let it go. The water was the most beautiful healing elixir I had ever tasted.

Propped against a couple of pillows, I got my first real look at my nurse. Jeans and a sweater—not hospital staff, then. Messy dark hair, slightly above average height. Slightly above average everything, actually, apart from his eyes. He was good looking, but not exceptionally so, fairly fit, a healthy weight…but those eyes! An intense deep blue that seemed to see right into my soul, and gave passion to an otherwise expressionless face.

He perched carefully on the edge of the bed; not wanting to disturb me rather than uncertain of his welcome. His hands fussed around me, repositioning the blankets with gentle efficiency.

"How are you feeling?"

"Kind of dizzy. Mostly numb. And don't take this the wrong way, but who the hell are you?"

* * *

Retrograde amnesia was the verdict that the doctors eventually delivered, albeit somewhat nervously. I didn't blame them. Heero Yuy—Mr. Intense Blue Eyes—did not seem like the sort of person you'd want to upset. And an explanation that basically boiled down to, "We don't know when, if, or how much of his memory will return," upset him very much indeed.

He threatened them with everything from lawsuits to Quatre Winner—the latter being the scarier of the two, based on their reactions—and then started ringing around to let "everyone" know what was happening, and to find a babysitter for me.

"I'm not going leave you alone with strangers," he informed me, completely ignoring the fact that as far as I was concerned he was just as much a stranger. My instinct was to trust him, though, and once again I didn't have much energy to argue.

The hospital staff didn't make any objection to his using a cell phone within the hospital, although I could see a couple of them thinking about it.

I was glad. Listening in on his half of those conversations gave me something to do besides staring at the walls, or the ceiling, or the dreadful curtains, and trying to bring forth memories that just didn't seem to be there.

"Zechs, it's Heero…Yeah, hi. Are you doing anything right now?...Damn…No, no, it's fine…He's woken up…Fine, mostly…Retrograde amnesia…Well google it, then!... Come by whenever, I don't want him left alone at all right now…Thanks…Yeah…How's the exhibition going?...That's great….Yeah…Yes…Okay, I'll talk to you later then…"

The next conversation was a far longer one.

"Hey, it's me…He's awake…Yes…Yes…No, not entirely…Retrograde amnesia…Yeah, exactly…No, no, stay there!...Quatre, calm down!...There's nothing you can do that isn't being done. He's fine, apart from the memory thing...You can't just drop everything…I was just letting you know how things are…No, of course I'm not going to leave him alone…No, you can't talk to him, he's asleep—" He made a quick shushing motion to me. "—and besides, he can't remember anything right now. A voice on the phone isn't going to change that…Maybe seeing familiar people will jog his memory, they didn't seem sure. We'll just have to wait and see…Really, stay there…You can drop by once you finish work tonight…You know damn well they're not going to enforce visiting hours where you're concerned…Alright, I'll see you then…Yeah, me too…Bye…QUATRE! No! Stay. Put. Goodbye."

He sighed heavily, clicking his phone shut.

"You'll thank me when he does show up," he said to my questioning expression. "He's a wonderful person, but not when you're sick. He…fusses."

"And doctors are afraid of him."

"What? Oh, you heard that earlier, did you? Yeah, he can be pretty scary when he needs to be. Plus I think one of his sisters owns this hospital, but I can't remember which one."

"How many sisters does he have?"

"Lots. Nine, I think. Ten, possibly? All older."

"Oh."

His phone rang before I could question him further.

"Yuy here…No, I do not wish to buy a toilet brush. Very funny, Maxwell...Well, it wasn't…Actually, I was just about to call you. He's woken up…Yeah, are you doing anything?...How _much_ later…Right…Yeah…No…That's alright…Bye…Bye…Yeah…Bye…"

"A toilet brush?"

"Duo," he said, as if that would explain everything.

It didn't.

"Hi, is Cathy there?...It's Heero…Thanks…No…Yes…No…Yes…Retrograde amnesia…Look it up…So, can you come?...What do you mean, important!? He's your brother...Yes, well. Never mind…No, I am NOT going to call Une…I do trust her, I just don't trust her with _him_ …That was low…Love you too, Cathy, always nice chatting with you…"

By this stage, I was starting to feel a little unloved. Heero and I had a lot of friends, apparently. Equally apparently, they had their own busy lives that couldn't just be put on hold. I had been out of it for a while. I guess most people had got used to the idea of my being unconscious during that time.

"Damn it, Sally, don't you ever answer your phone? I need you to get your arse back to Sanc, pronto. Your expertise is required. Yuy, out."

"Hello?...Yes, hello, I'd like to speak to Relena Peacecraft, please…Heero Yuy…Yes, I can hold…Okay, thank you…Hi Relena, he woke up…Retrograde amnesia…I don't know, the doctors didn't say…Is there a difference?...Well how was I supposed to know that?...Are you busy?...No, it's fine…Really…Bye…"

The expression on his face as he dialled the next number suggested to me that it was not fine at all.

"Treize, hey, it's Heero Yuy…Good, thanks…Yes, he's awake…Actually, I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you…"


	2. Thirteen Roses

**A/N:** Written for tamingthemuse on LiveJournal. Prompt #489: Velvety.

* * *

Treize Khushrenada arrived carrying thirteen long-stemmed roses in a rich, velvety red. Thorns and all.

My first impression was that he was an extremely classy guy.

Chestnut hair slicked back from his face, with just two little curls artfully arranged to fall over his forehead.

Tight pants and shiny black boots.

A coat that hinted at a military cut.

A walk that suggested military training.

Blue eyes as sharp as Heero's, without any of that remarkable depth.

A voice that was accustomed to being obeyed.

Those poor hospital staff were only just beginning to recover from the advent of Heero. Not that he was glaring or yelling at them the way Heero had. On the contrary, he was being very nice to them.

It was the kind of nice that happened just before you decided whether you wanted someone decapitated or hanged, and they all knew it.

He stood just inside the door of my room, in conversation with the main doctor in charge of my care. He had said "I see" seven times in the last ten minutes, each with increasing amiability. The doctor—a confident, experienced and generally intelligent man—was becoming quite hysterical.

"I must sincerely thank you for the care you have shown my young friend," Treize murmured at last, concluding their little colloquy. His victim wandered off looking slightly dazed, and very much like a man who was heading back to his office for a stiff drink.

I tried to thank Treize for coming, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and a smirk, telling me it was nothing. It didn't feel like nothing, though. I didn't want to be alone there, so I was grateful for the company, but I remembered how surprised Heero had been when he agreed to come.

"You would do the same for me," he said.

Would I, though? I honestly had no idea. Besides, he didn't seem like a man to be swayed by such considerations.

I could find no way to express any of this without seeming rude, but apparently my silence spoke for me.

"I was glad for the distraction," he said at last, taking a seat beneath the ledge that held his flowers. "My ex-partner…Well, there was an event that I was considering making an appearance at. I don't know if he would have been pleased to see me, or angry.

"Either way, it would be too tempting to fall back into our old patterns. As wonderful as it always feels in the beginning, I always hurt him; we always hurt each other. I can't, not again. I'm…tired."

Without any further ceremony, he pulled out a book and began to read as I processed all of that.

It seemed like an awful lot of information, under the circumstances. Granted, I knew very little about Treize. He might give that level of detail to strangers on the tram, but I couldn't see it. I couldn't see him taking a tram, come to that.

I felt my forehead creasing ever so slightly.

"Treize?"

"Yes?" He looked up from his book.

"How do you know you can trust me with something like that? That I won't just blurt it all out to the next person on babysitting detail? For all intents and purposes, I am a complete stranger to you."

For a moment he just stared at me, then that small, infuriating smirk returned.

"What would you say that your favourite colour is?"

"…I don't know. I can't remember anything." _Duh!_

But the smirk remained firmly in place.

"Just think about it for a minute."

So I did. I thought about all the colours I had come across in the time since I had woken up. White was completely out, as was beige. I glanced over at the red roses, with their green stems, and then at Treize's black boots. I thought about the unspeakably bland meal Heero had forced me to consume before leaving me in Treize's care, and shuddered internally. The sheen of fluorescent lights on messy dark brown hair, and those incredible eyes…

"Blue," I said firmly. "My favourite colour is blue."

Treize's smirk was replaced by a genuine smile, the first I'd seen from him, I think. His mouth curved appealingly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, making him beautiful and carefree. With a slight shock I realised that he couldn't be more than thirty, at the very outside. Probably closer to twenty-five. The condescending attitude and the tiredness had combined to give the impression of a much older man.

"As it was before." The smile had faded from his lips, but lingered in his eyes. "You may not have your memories, Trowa Barton, but you have the same spirit. You are not the blathering type. In fact, you keep confidences better than almost any other person of my acquaintance. I would know, given the amount of times I've tried and failed to pry information out of you."

He paused a moment to let me absorb that.

"Now you really must go to sleep. Heero's oders. I have no intention of being subjected to the Yuy death glare."


End file.
